


El Silencio Otorga

by Natalia



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalia/pseuds/Natalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the English translation to the original work with following link:<br/>http://archiveofourown.org/works/1969698<br/>written by storiesandlies</p><p>I have got the author's permission to translate it into English.</p><p>English in not my mother tongue, so there has to be a lot of mistakes in it.<br/>Still hope you enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	El Silencio Otorga

**Author's Note:**

> This is the English translation to the original work with following link:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1969698  
> written by storiesandlies
> 
> I have got the author's permission to translate it into English.
> 
> English in not my mother tongue, so there has to be a lot of mistakes in it.  
> Still hope you enjoy it.

It's incredible what sometimes silence can give.

That void of any noise may have the meaning of the most perfect tranquility or the most horrible discomfort.

It's silence; that drenches everything; that enables thoughts to flow more easily; that makes the noises of life become still; that succeeds in getting out to the surface and developing into something clearer like the water of a river at its birth.

It's silence; that can weigh heavily on you as a concrete stone of care; that keeps hold of every hidden corner of a person in order to drown him/her from time to time.

It's only silence but instead it means a great number of things.

 

Street sound has been forgotten in this room, which now is in completely silence. The curtains are halfway opened, leaving the salon a quite dark one and making smooth the sound of few cars that are passing by the street. Light from street lamps sneaks through a small hole into the foot of the bed. This orange light barely calls any attention but gives a distinct colour to everything in that room. 

Every orange thing creates light and shadow.

 

Bastian moves under the soft bed sheets. The sound caused by fabric slips through his skin, which is much sharper than usual because of the silence in the room. He slowly opens his eyes, trying to get used to the little light inside; and rubs those using one of his hands while sighing weakly.

The German keeps staring at the ceiling. He can also feel that Lukas moves himself to get close to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth in the middle of the night and between his own dreams. 

Things are always like this. His support, is the pillar that had never been missing in his life. Bastian does not care at all, not when his world circles around him all the time.

Lukas murmurs something in his dreams. This little meaningless talking makes the German smile. A smile that he himself will never know, which had pushed the Polish player forward in his worst moments. When darkness loomed over him and he didn’t have, theoretically anything to depend on.

However, the German's smile has always been there for him.

Constantly.

 

Bastian gets up a little from the bed, leaning his upper back against the headboard. He contemplates the room while counting the steps of time with paused breaths of his companion. He can see their clothes be thrown all over the floor, and his thoughts fly back to couples of hours before—he can see it again, that space does not exist between them. This inherent connection is what defines them—. He can also see Lukas' mobile phone on the table, that one easily get lost everywhere and he almost never picks it up at the first time he calls.

He sees the huge wardrobe that the Polish put inside the room. It's full of T-shirts with outrageous pictures, and thousands of jeans and pants. He also remembers, —like some little gesture of something usual that he remembers in every single day of his life—that after years of relationship and in the name of saving time during those short visits, in this very wardrobe, there are two drawers in which he puts his clothes. Clothes that he had brought for weekends and in the end had been left over.

Irrefutable proof that they are more than just friend.

Details that mark them as what a couple they are.

 

Breathing. Strongly. Deeply. Releasing all the possible air through the mouth. Then Bastian looks back at Lukas, who is still asleep and sticks his entire body to him with thighs tangled up in sheets. 

Nothing has been easy for them.

Not because of themselves, for they have always been undoubted about their feelings; but because of the whole world.

Because of the fear of being judged; of being found out; of making mistakes about themselves and taking wrong steps, which could destroy all that they have achieved.

Bastian put his hand through Lukas' arm with caress, causing goosebumps over the touched skin.

They're reflexes.

The feeling that with one simple hug, or one simple touch, everything will be fine.

 

Lukas turns to the side of Bastian, this time he puts one of his arms around the German's waist. Surrounding him. Protecting him from invisible attacks.

And Bastian closes his eyes, enjoying this precious moment; enjoying the silence, which is interrupted only when a couple of cars passing by at this time of night. 

He is now lost in old memories.

Beautiful memories of course, because tonight is not for recalling old nightmares.

His mind wanders over their first kiss. Frightened. Scared. Insecure. That kiss which Bastian gave behind the door of his house, is a kiss lasted barely a fraction of a second; is the action of lips of Lukas adapting to those of Bastian; is a minimal connection; is a kiss that they have been longing for so much but have never obtained.

That day nothing else happened with they two ended up sleeping together on the couch. An old movie was still on TV. The whole space was filled with one particular feeling--the first barrier had been broken.

The first step was taken.The fear of crashing into a cold iced wall had been put aside.

Although neither were easy the following steps. Another fear appeared. Different. More hidden. Like their relationship, which had started in old rooms of small hotels and uncomfortable showers.

The distance after the departure of Lukas from Bayern. They had to endure the pain in chest when they needed each other the most, but could not feel the embrace from the other side. Phone calls simply could not replace the sound of breaths in bed.

 

Plenty of feelings were faded away by now.

Making them stronger. 

Making them who they are.

It was not a easy time, and they both remember it like basis of all the other things.

Despite what they have suffered from, they will never ever forget about it.

 

Lukas opens his eyes right at this moment, pushing Bastian back from memories. He then returns to look adoringly at him while gently stroking his hair. 

—What are you doing awake at this time? Lukas asks hoarsely. Clear evidence that he has just woken up. He gives Bastian a soft sweet kiss on his collarbone and then lays his head on another man's breast.

—I couldn't sleep. Besides I can watch you sleeping in this way, which for me is more interest than myself being asleep.

Lukas smiles against his skin. His own genuine and unique smile.

A smile that can move Bastian's whole world.

—I miss you.

—I know that.

—You don´t? Lukas sounds sure about the answer, but the German player have already learned to read between the lines like he did on the pitch. He know that Lukas need to hear it from his own mouth.

—Of course I miss you, idiot.

 

Words that cost nothing to say, but instead can make everything easy. 

To breathe, is something easy, and natural.

Especially when you know that you will never ever be alone.

That you and him will be together forever.

And everything else is just some meaningless white noise.


End file.
